


Better than a Space Heater

by arioseDreamer



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, trans!jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2744360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arioseDreamer/pseuds/arioseDreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco has large hands, warm hands. And he is extremely cuddly.<br/>On a normal day, Jean is not. But today, he's taking particular advantage of his boyfriend's freakishly warm hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better than a Space Heater

Marco shuffles closer to him, drawning Jean nearer. Jean tucks himself neatly into the space against Marco's chest. He twines their legs together and sandwiches his cold hands between their chests. Marco wraps his arms around Jean, chafes his arms gently. "God, you feel like a block of ice," he murmurs.

 

Jean whines in response. "My circulation sucks on a good day," he mutters. "It's fucking worse this time of month." 

 

"You could stop smoking." Jean huffs and mumbles something about trying, but not during finals, into Marco's neck. Marco sighs, and kisses Jean's ruffled hair. "Sorry, baby."

 

Jean huffs again. "Not y'r fault," he mumbles. "You're right, anyway." Then he sighs loudly. " _God_ , this sucks."

 

Marco slips his hands under Jean's shirt and rubs soothingly over the small of his back. Jean melts into his arms. "A little better?" Jean nods. "You take anything for the cramps?"

 

"Midol, just before you got back from class."

 

"It should be kicking in soon then?"

 

"It needs to work  _faster_ ," Jean complains. Then he thinks about it. "Why, you looking to sneak out of here?"

 

"Baby, if  _you_ pull the 'nobody wants to be around me on my period' card..." He starts, then shakes his head and nudges Jean's head up to kiss his boyfriend's lips. "Nah, I'm more than happy to stay right here in bed with you. I just know you're miserable until the meds start working."

 

"Hmph, too true." Jean sighs and nuzzles closer, letting Marco rub the cramps out of his back. "Anyone ever tell you you're better than a space heater, Marco?"

 

Marco laughs. "Yeah, you. Frequently. Anyone ever tell you you're better than an ice pack?"

 

"Shut up." But Jean's smile is pressed against Marco's chest so he can't hide it in a grumpy tone. They lapse into silence, and the late nights preparing for exams catch up to both of them. Marco falls asleep first, and Jean drowsily rearranges their positions so he's curled with his back to Marco's chest. He reaches out for the afgan and pulls it over both of them (mostly himself). 

 

Marco wakes up first, wrapped contentedly around his sleeping boyfriend. For a long minute, he doesn't bother moving. The bed is warm, and Jean is warm, and the light that filters in the window is surprisingly golden for a December afternoon. He sighs and extricates himself from Jean, carefully so as not to wake him. Marco smiles, tucks his corner of the afgan closer around Jean's scrawny figure. 

 

He walks out of their bedroom into the kitchen, rolling his shoulders, satisfied with the pops his joints make as he stretches. He checks the cabinets in the kitchen and bathroom, and smiles softly to himself. Marco glances back toward the bedroom, wistfully. 

 

Leaving before Jean wakes up isn't the best option. Actually, Marco doesn't want to leave at all. It's cold beyond the cozy, timeless space within the apartment. He sets to reheating vegetable soup on the stove, continually glancing toward the bedroom with the hope that Jean will wake up hungry and poke his head out of the door, hair touseled from sleeping and wrapped in the afgan. The soup starts bubbling and Jean hasn't appeared. He sighs, turns the stove on low to keep the soup warm. 

 

The cloth napkin he keeps with a pack of washable markers in the nightstand drawer is slightly stained with color, which is telling of how often Marco leaves cuddlable notes for Jean. He shoves his keys into his pocket and tucks the cloth into Jean's hand with a kiss. He makes a soft noise in his sleep, and Marco smiles tenderly at him. He brushes one warm hand through Jean's hair, and leaves.

 

The front door shutting behind Marco rouses Jean. The first thing he notices is that his Midol has kicked in. The second is that Marco isn't behind him anymore. Jean sits up and rubs sleep from his eyes. Yawning, he smooths out the napkin he woke up holding. He stopped being surprised at waking up holding them after the sixth or seventh time. Marco's messy scrawl bleeds orange into the stained fabric:

 

_Didn't want to wake you. Soup's warm on the stove help yourself._

_You're out of Midol and almost out of tampons so I ran to the store. Text me if you need anything else before I'm back?_

_Love you._

Jean smils. He leaves the napkin on the bed, takes the afgan. When Marco comes back, Jean is curled up in the afgan on the sofa, an empty bowl on the coffee table. He puts his groceries away, takes the dishes to the sink. When he walks past the sofa again, Jean opens the afgan and wraps his arms around Marco's waist. 

 

"Stop walking. Start cuddling," he demands. Marco doesn't even consider resisting. He sits beside Jean, and they maneuver around each other until Jean and the afgan are draped over Marco's chest. 

 

"Any finals tomorrow?" Marco asks.

 

"Twelve thirty," Jean answers. 

 

"Ready for it?"

 

"Mmhmm. You're done with yours tomorrow right?"

 

"Yeah. I'm not worried about that one either. Let's just stay here."

 

Jean smiles and hums and settles comfortably against Marco. They fall asleep again to the semiquiet of the apartment. Whitenoise of kitchen appliances, the other's breath, and heartbeat blend into the best kind of lullaby. 


End file.
